spiraling up

Draft from Sunday night- after a bit too long pressing the ‘random’ button in the toolbar, reading old blogs, marveling at how many could be written today. Going back to Allstate– I just had my first day again- three years later.

I’m almost kinda sorta getting closer to starting to recover from a debilitating fear of standing out. At all.

One week short of three years later, I can say that the fear of standing out was like my fear of needles.

I dreaded shots for 13 years but shrugged them off when I actually needed them. Afterwards I felt silly for making a(n internal) fuss. I still have that gut emotional reaction that they’re bad, but my conscious mind rationalizes that it really didn’t hurt, a bit of a poke, slightly sore afterwards, but nothing to warrant dread.

Live?

That’s where I stopped Sunday night, unsure which lessons to keep, which to record, how to record them and what all this means to me.

The shower analogy returns and I wonder how much of this I should just let wash over me, knowing it’ll be refreshing but not expecting it to make any lasting impact.

Still- I want to remember that a few weeks ago we were required to park in the grass at work and then scramble to try to move before the nearby swamp overflowed. I don’t think it would have, but a coworker came back from moving her car saying “That was like a whole bunch of frantic people trying to get out of a burning building”. I refused to go immediately, knowing that I’d have to wait for the frantic people to get out of the way and that I’d be more useful serving our hungry guests.

When they came back and it was my turn, the downpour had passed, there was a light sprinkle, the grass parking lot was almost empty and I had a beautiful little rest from the chaos of a hectic kitchen.

The first will be last and the last will be first.

I don’t want to forget that I was working on Friday so my phone was on silent all day but I felt that quiet encouragement to take my lunch break, check the phone, get some personal business accomplished. As I was holding this silent, dying phone, it rang. I called back from the office phone at ‘my’ desk (I’m desk hopping- a once/ twice a week temp doesn’t need a space of her own) and my cello teacher was asking to reschedule my lesson from Sat to Mon. I had to work Sat and thought she knew. Monday was my preference and I hadn’t had time to call and ask whether it’d be ok.

That actually happens quite often.

Like the day an out of town friend was visiting and rescheduling meant she didn’t have to come with.

The time I forgot to mention that I had to be somewhere at 2 (I normally have an ensemble from 12-1 and lesson from 1-2). I was just going to ask to skip ensemble, but she calls the night before asking if I could have a lesson beforehand instead of after.

Sunday night I reread the post about the power outage while on the treadmill. I don’t want to forget the relief when I realized that 2 miles per hour brought a slight jolt while five and a half could have badly hurt me.

It all ties together. God brings me to moments of rest whether or not I want or think I need them because I’ll crash and break something otherwise.

“It feels like I’m going around in circles”

After a night of tired nostalgia, I tried to sort out some thoughts for my mother Sunday night and her answer was that all of this is a spiral upwards. Sure we revisit lessons, but I’m not in the same place as I was then.

I’m revisiting Allstate but it’s not backtracking; none of this is static. There is something new there and a few things to remember and build off of. The play I just completed has some similarities to the one from 4th grade- that nervousness followed by relief and a sense of accomplishment- the confidence injected in me from the positive feedback- those were experiences a nine year old needed to go through and lessons that I haven’t mastered by 24.

A new stage, a new beginning. A familiar route. It’s ok to spiral, but what am I spiraling towards?